


TARFU

by diathlu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Children, Coping, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Major Character Injury, Married Characters, Married Couple, Married Life, Mental Health Issues, Military, Military Families, Modern Era, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reylo Kid, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diathlu/pseuds/diathlu
Summary: There’s always a far-off look in his eyes when he gets quiet for a little too long, and it's as though if she stares too much she can see the scene of that military jeep exploding replaying over and over, feel the phantom pain of his arm being ripped from his body.





	TARFU

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I handled this subject well. I'm a military brat, so I like to think I did. 🖤

Rey huffs a shaky sigh as she balances her son on her hip, subtly bouncing him as they watch where the arrivals should be flooding into the baggage claim area. Anakin Solo is four years old, named after his great grandfather, even has his dirty blond hair. The pair are waiting for daddy to come through, though Rey is hardly prepared for the sight of him when he does — one arm missing, from the shoulder, in civilian clothes rather than his military uniform. There’s a wound running across the side of his face, too, the skin still pinkish and raised. He'll be medically discharged, but that’s the last of her worries.

They stand there a moment, staring at each other from across the airport, Anakin squirming in her arms, complaining until Rey releases him so he can dash over. The boy’s arms are around his father’s thigh in seconds, still unable to reach the man’s waist. Ben looks at a loss, glancing in his wife’s direction with apprehensive eyes. She nods, smiles encouragingly, and so he kneels down to wrap his one intact arm around his son, squeezing him close as Ani nuzzles against the man’s shoulder.

“Missed you, kid.” He rumbles as Rey strides closer, arms folded over her chest now that they don’t have to prop their child up. With a  _ smack _ Ben presses a kiss to the small boy’s temple, and then comes to a stand so that he can huddle his wife to his chest. She wants to cry out in relief of finally seeing him and being sure of his safe arrival home, but she blinks against the stinging and stays quiet until their embrace  breaks.

“We missed you, too.” It takes a moment to shake the odd feeling of a one-armed embrace. Every other time her husband has come home, he’d been able to envelope her in a warm bear hug, and while she isn’t  _ bothered _ , it is going to take some getting used to.  _ It’ll be an adjustment for everyone, it’s okay _ , she’d told him over the phone, when he was finally out of surgery and able to speak with her. The call she’d gotten before that, about the car bomb, was something that she always knew  _ could _ happen, but she never thought it  _ would _ .

Ben feels incomplete — he doesn't have to say as much for Rey to be able to tell. She’ll catch him doing things like trying to pick up Anakin the way he used to, but then he’ll hesitate, recalculate because it’s not quite as easy as it used to be. There’s always a far-off look in his eyes when he gets quiet for a little too long, and it's as though if she stares too much she can see the scene of that military jeep exploding replaying over and over, feel the phantom pain of his arm being ripped from his body. In the early morning when he's standing in the bathroom looking at himself, he'll run his fingers over his scar; she'll wince.

The doctors recommend he wait to reacquaint himself with driving, so Rey shuttles him from one appointment to the next while Ani is in preschool. Doctors, therapists, support groups. It’s all meant to help, but she knows that Ben can’t help but feel emasculated by all of this, which is ridiculous.

“There’s no shame in taking advantage of these resources while you can.” They’re laying in bed one night, her husband rolled over onto one side so that he’s bearing his back to her. Lithe fingers mindlessly trace from one mole to the next while he lays there pretending to sleep, creating constellations. “I'm proud of you for making the effort.” It isn't uncommon for soldiers to neglect their mental health; they're a prideful, stubborn bunch, meant to be in peak condition at all times. What would their brothers in arms say if they exhibited any signs of weakness?

“You shouldn't be.” Ben finally croaks out, shuddering under her touch, shrugging her off. One of the men from his squadron was in that car when it exploded; there was nothing anyone could do, but that doesn't stop her husband from blaming himself. It's war — how can anyone really be in control?

“You came home alive.” Rey snuggles closer, presses a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“I think I scare Ani. My face.” He mumbles, voice strained in a weak effort to keep his emotions at bay.

“You do  _ not _ scare Ani. He loves his dad more than anything.” Despite the circumstances, he had been ecstatic when Rey sat him down to explain that Ben would be coming home early. He's always been vocally proud of his father's work, boasting that he protects everyone against the bad guys like some kind of superhero. While it isn't quite that simple, a four year old isn't going to understand the complexities of the military.

“I scare you.” He says next.

To this, Rey doesn't know how to respond. Partially because it's ridiculous, and partially because it's true, but she thinks that he doesn't quite understand where her fear stems from. Six years of being married, and they still manage to stumble and misunderstand each other like they've only just met.

“No, I'm scared  _ for _ you.” Ben has night terrors, wakes up screaming, yelling, crying. Once she tried to console him, and he pinned her down to the bed by her throat until clarity returned. After that, he slept on the couch until she coaxed him back into the bedroom. They haven't had sex at all since his return. “I know you. I know how hard this is for you.” He's a sensitive man, whether he likes to admit it or not. Has a romantic’s heart.

“I’m fine.” He scoots away, until he's sat hunched over on the edge of the bed.

“You're not fine.” Rey stays put, worrying her bottom lip.

“I'm fucking  _ fine _ .” So why does she hear his voice hitch? Why won't he look at her?

“It's okay not to be.” Rey sits up then, curls against his broad back, wraps her arms around his shoulders. “No one expects you to be fine. We want you to heal, and you don’t rush that.” Then she feels Ben slump over, dropping his face into his hand with a shaky breath. He’s crying, so she holds him through it and tells him he's beautiful.

Conversations of the same tone become commonplace, whispered amongst one another in the dead of night, whilst their son sleeps just one room over. During the day, they don’t have much alone time together; they have to take care of Ani, and when they’re not they’re out running errands, or Rey is busy working. It’s the witching hour on a Sunday when they finally make love (the first time in over a month). Ben grips her hip so hard it bruises as he holds her down, and when she cums she has to grab a pillow to muffle the sounds of her cries. The next morning, she wakes to Ben stroking her purpled thigh.

One afternoon, Anakin pulls a family portrait from his backpack, with his overly tall father sporting that missing arm and his new scar. At dinner, they sit down and have a serious discussion about PTSD, and while it’s difficult for a child to comprehend, they can tell that their son is trying his best by asking about a dozen questions.  _ Okay, okay let’s change the subject _ , Ben eventually has to request with a low, rumbling chuckle that makes Rey’s heart flutter and her cheeks flush.

They don’t like to fight in front of Ani, not the way that Ben recollects Ben and Leia doing, not the way that they used to early on in their relationship. But it happens, one rainy afternoon when their son is playing with his action figures in the living room and they’re in the kitchen. Despite having given a decade of his life to the military, what help they offer isn’t going to be sustainable forever, and Rey knows this. Having grown up with very little, money isn’t something that she likes to take for granted.

“That isn’t going to pay the bills, Ben.” She’s trying to keep her voice down, but both of them are steadily losing control.

“I was getting good at it before the army.” At painting, he means. He wants to  _ paint _ . Rey thinks it’s ridiculous.

“You need to find something stable.” And art? Even her job at the diner is more stable than that.

“Jesus Christ, you sound like my mother.” Ben rolls his eyes.

“I —  _ don’t _ look at me like that.” Now he’s done it. Rey’s voice gets louder, and so he tries to speak over her, until they’re neck-deep in a shouting match that only comes to a halt when the sound of G.I. Joe falling to the wood floor hits their ears. Immediately, both of their heated gazes snap in the direction of Anakin, peeking in on them with wide, hazel eyes. They have to explain to him that  _ no, mommy and daddy aren’t getting divorced _ .

That night, Ben sleeps on the couch. Rey slips out the door for her morning shift at Maz’s before he even wakes up. Since he’s able to drive now (his dominant arm was, thankfully, spared), he can take Anakin to school.

It’s when Rey is organising the magazines and newspapers that they keep near the entrance - easier for the early birds to grab one and read - that she sees an advertisement for a local college. The flyer has fallen open to a page boasting about their art program. Her chest grows tight as she remembers last night’s argument, how difficult it was getting to sleep without her personal space heater lying next to her.

During break, she sits in the back office printing off information on various art programs. Free life drawing sessions around the city, classes, nearby colleges.

Rey gets permission to go home early, her little folder of information sitting upon the passenger’s seat as she navigates through lunchtime traffic until  _ finally _ she’s where she needs to be, just a couple of hours before Ani is supposed to be home. Inside, she finds Ben cleaning.

“You’re early.” He points out, surprised. Rey isn’t the type to skip out on a shift early, especially not when she feels like they’re in a tight spot.

“Yeah, I, uh . . .” She motions towards the couch, and they take a seat on opposite sides. Then, she pulls the folder from under her arm, and sets it upon the coffee table.

Ben hesitates to take it, but eventually he does. Upon seeing the papers inside, his expression goes through a number of stages, though he mostly looks confused. “What?”

“I was wrong.” Rey admits, however painful it is to do so. “If you want to paint, or whatever, you can.”

“Are you, you know,  _ sure _ ?” Despite Ben’s apprehension, she can’t possibly say no to that hopeful expression.

“Yeah. I believe in you.” Talking about art might be the happiest she’s seen him since he got home.

“I love you.” He mumbles, sliding across the couch to close the distance between them, cupping her cheek and pulling her into a bruising kiss. By the time they pull away, she’s left breathless.

They christen the couch, throw pillows strewn to the floor as Ben hikes Rey’s leg up over his shoulder and fucks into her like they’re teenagers and his parents could walk in any moment. It’s quick, frenzied, and when they’re finished she feels boneless. Ben collapses atop her, but keeps enough of his weight off of her that it’s pleasant rather than suffocating.

“ _ Shit _ .” Ben says sometime later, sitting up so that he can see into the kitchen and read the time. “We’re gonna be late picking Anakin up.” He says, and so they both shoot up, struggle to get redressed before dashing out the door.

Today, their son tells them, he’s decided that he wants a dog.

“Or maybe a younger brother.” The boy adds thoughtfully, a statement that renders both parents pink-cheeked. It wouldn’t be so bad, Rey thinks, if Ben is going to be home more often now. 

**Author's Note:**

> On twitter @nsfwars. :)


End file.
